


Me & My Husband

by spockina



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Emotional Hurt, F/M, Other, Paranoia, it's not as sad as it looks like from the tags tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23406274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockina/pseuds/spockina
Summary: "Sometimes I think I'm going crazy."
Relationships: Jessie McLaughlin/Rhett McLaughlin, Rhett McLaughlin & Link Neal
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	Me & My Husband

**Author's Note:**

> please read: this is a passion project, and probably not everyone's cup of tea. this is a jessie mclaughlin story. no fighting or infidelity, just jessie thinking. deals with some thoughts and ideas some people might not be comfortable with (a woman who thinks she might be going crazy, co-dependency on her husband), so please go about it carefully.
> 
> title is from mitski’s song of the same name, which this work was 100% inspired by. please go and listen; i highly rec it, it’s really good.

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

In. Out.

I smile at no one, just for myself.

I know why I’m here. I have a reason, I have a _right_ to be here. I smile one more time, and this time I’m looking in the mirror, back into my own eyes, brown as can be. I am here.

-

“Rhett,” I say, for the fourth time, maybe. “Rhett, babe, get me a glass of wine?”

He bends down, presses his lips to mine, and there’s a smile in his voice when he says, “Sure, babe,” but he’s not looking at me.

He’s not looking at me.

Not at me.

He says, “You comin’ with?,” and he’s not talking to me.

“Nah, brother, I’m good. Get me a beer, too,” is the reply he gets, to which he shrugs, moves away from us.

“How’s Lily’s back?” I ask.

His eyes are so blue. Blue like the sky, and Rhett doesn’t like heights, but he sure loves flying. Blue like the ocean, and Rhett’s always dreamed of water. Mine are brown. Rhett’s fond of wood.

He shrugs, and I regret asking. “She’s… doing alright. Recovery is slower than we hoped for.”

I touch his shoulder, because I love him. He is family. He was family before I stumbled upon them, and he’s gonna continue being family, and I love him.

“I’m sorry, Link. You know you can count on us, right? For anything. We’re family.”

He smiles a tiny smile, one that I particularly like, both hands coming up to cup my face. “I know, Jess. Thanks. Thank you, so much,” he says, and his voice breaks a little at the end; touches his lips to my forehead in a loving kiss.

“Hey, man, quit touchin’ on my wife,” we both hear, and he’s moving away, hands up in mock surrender, laughter playing on his lips.

I feel the smile stretching my lips, I can’t help it; I love this man. I look up with the most honest grin on my face, but he’s not looking at me.

He’s not looking at me.

He’s looking at the ocean in front of us, and I’m just the woods.

If only he could learn about the rainforest.

-

My children are off down the street, on the other half of the family.

I love my house.

I built it with love, and care; every detail reflects us. Rhett, and me, and Locke, and Shepherd (and Barbara). I designed a house for the people I love the most in my life, and this is how I’m paid back: I’m lying on the couch, _my_ couch, and Rhett’s sitting on the floor with a book. I have my phone in one hand, the other carding slowly through his hair, every curl a caress on my fingers. Barbara’s sitting on his lap, asleep, and he alternates between turning his pages and placing a hand on her little body.

This is peace as I know it.

This is my success.

-

Sometimes I think I’m going crazy.

The Neal household is beautiful and I love it – and not just because half of it I designed myself.

Rhett has a favored armchair in the family room; now he’s sitting in it, Christy perched on its arm, Rhett’s arm around her waist. I’m on the couch, Link on the floor, Lily lying with her head on his legs.

I’m not paying attention to anything, Sunday lunch still working through my system, but Christy’s laugh is loud and impossible to resist, and I laugh at nothing, just to laugh with her.

I watch, and I love them. All of them.

But sometimes I think I’m crazy.

Rhett talks to Link and Lily, and Christy watches them, a smile on her lips, soft, paper-white features calm and serene. No turbulent thoughts behind her eyes. No mind to Link as he talks to Rhett and Rhett alone.

I close my eyes, and Link says, “You sleepy?”

Rhett answers before I can: “She’s the only person who can out-sleep you, bo,” and the sound of his laughter is still the most beautiful in the world.

I don’t reply, and I don’t dare open my eyes.

-

I’m panting into the night, and he’s panting into me.

And I love him so, so much.

I feel tears at the corners of my eyes, and I must sniff, because he’s raising his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, and the smirk in his voice is undeniable when he says, “You crying already?”

I wanna laugh, but that’s not what comes out.

“Yeah, yeah,” I breathe out, somehow, “Get back to it, boy.”

He murmurs, “So bossy,” but does as he’s told.

I know he loves me.

I know.

I know in the way he sighs when he slides home, in the way he moves, practiced but not on autopilot: in the way of a man who loves his craft, and takes pride in knowing just how to do it, doing it right every single time.

I know it in the way his hands hold me – they’re big, just like the rest of him, but they don’t threaten: they hurt good and sweet, and they reach so deep into me that sometimes I think they’re gonna touch my heart.

But then he picks up his pace, and I can almost taste sanity when he says “I love you, I love you, I love you so fucking much, _fuck_ ,” like it’s a prayer, like I’m a saint, like this is his sin and his blessing, and he doesn’t deserve me.

I can almost taste sanity, and that’s my favorite flavor: it tastes like nothing else exists but me, and him, and our bed.

It’s always been just us when we go down like this, and these are the moments I hold close to my heart, at the forefront of my mind palace, for when I need the reminder.

Just us.

-

This is a known routine.

My eyes are dark – darker still in the harsh, yellow lights from Christy’s master bathroom.

My eyes are dark like burning wood, and I wish I could splash my face with cold water, but this make up took some time and I’m not about to destroy it for a second of clarity.

I can achieve it on my own, so I look into my eyes in the mirror, and I smile. I breathe in and out.

“I’m alright,” I whisper, because I’m not yet insane and Christy’s on the other side of the door.

One more smile and I’m walking out.

I see Cassie first when I walk into the patio. She smiles, waves at me, and we make small talk for a minute or two, until she says, “Oh, I think Steph needs some help,” and points to where Stevie seems stuck on a conversation. I laugh and let her go.

This isn’t a party, these aren’t our friends, or even their employees. This is a business event. My eyes scan the gathering, and I want to say I’m looking for my boys, but I’m not. I’m looking for my man. Looking for him as if I don’t know where I’m gonna find him.

I feel out of sorts.

I find him.

His hand is on Link’s shoulder, and they’re both turned towards an older man. His face is amicable, but I can see the straight line of his shoulders all the way from where I’m standing, and I know that’s why he’s touching Link: he needs the support.

He doesn’t need a reason to touch Link, but sometimes there’s a reason anyway.

I walk back inside; find myself a glass to hold, a countertop to stand against, and I watch.

Stevie finds me, clinks her glass against mine. “You alright in there, Missus?”

“Yeah, just a tiny headache between the eyes,” I say, and it’s not a lie, but I only realize it once I say it out loud.

“You want me to get Rhett?” She asks.

“No. No, last I saw he was talking to someone who looked important.”

She eyes me carefully, but doesn’t say anything, and I almost say _thank you_. We talk some more, but she _is_ as much a part of Mythical as Rhett and Link themselves, and she’s soon requested somewhere else.

I have another glass. A dinner, formal-style, is supposed to happen at some point. As it is, I stand there with a glass of wine, dressed and dolled up far better than the event asked for, standing out like a sore thumb.

I feel him before he touches me. It’s a superpower.

His hands find my waist, and he buries his face in the back of my neck, hugging me from behind.

“‘M tired,” he mumbles, and I smile.

Smile smile smile.

He breathes into my neck, and I can’t help the goosebumps. He pulls back, and turns me around so we can face other. He offers me my favorite smile of his, the one that only exists for the ones he loves.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says, unexpectedly.

“I’m overdressed,” I mumble, even though there’s a smile fighting its way out.

He noses at my ear. “There’s no such thing, Jess. You’re gorgeous. Every day.”

I haven’t breathed this good in the longest time.

I feel light.

My feet have no weight at all and I’m bound to the ground by the arms around my waist.

And then there’s a clasp on his shoulder so hard that I can feel it where he’s touching me, and Link’s saying, “You ready, brother?”

He kisses my forehead, but his eyes are on Link’s as he says, “As ready as I’ll ever be,” and they go.

But today I’m gorgeous.

And I’m in love.

When it’s late, and all five kids are asleep in the Neal’s children’s bedrooms, I’m lying in bed with Christy, heels lost somewhere in the house – and so is my husband.

She says, “I might fall asleep,” and I say, “go for it.” Her smile is kind when she tells me to stay the night, and I reply that the kids might take the offer. She laughs, softly, and is gone in the next minute or two.

I walk downstairs slowly, quietly.

I can hear them, and one more step allows me to see them without being seen.

I love watching Rhett, always have.

Right now, he’s sitting on the couch, long legs splayed open, glass of bourbon in hand. Link, in an armchair, is a mirror, darker image: legs splayed open, bourbon in hand. No shoes. They talk in quiet voices, and they share the hair-touching habit.

I love watching Rhett, and there’s always been something captivating about watching him when he’s looking at Link. It’s like there’s no way to share that attention – wherever there is Link, that’s where Rhett’s attention is going to be.

I learned and made peace with that years ago. We wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t.

But tonight I’m gorgeous.

And so I walk into the living room, and they both smile at me. Rhett opens his arms, and I sit on one of his legs, curling into him.

“You stayin’ the night?” Link asks, and I say no before Rhett can.

Link laughs. “Yeah, smart girl, you are.” He winks, playful. “Leave the kids behind and go have fun.”

Rhett’s laugh is almost too loud for how quiet the rest of the house is.

“Hey, man,” he says, “Don’t think about my wife like that!”

We all laugh, then; if anything, because Rhett’s laughter is contagious, and I wanna be infected.

I get up, and I walk over to Link, bend down to kiss his cheeks.

“Take care of him,” he says. “He had some drinks.”

I look into his eyes, because they are beautiful, and as blue as they always are, even in the low light of the living room.

He is family. He was family before me, and he took me in anyways.

“I will, Link.” I say.

He sneaks his arms up to hold me in a hug. “Love you,” I whisper into his shoulder, and he nods, and we know. I say it because it’s true.

We get ready to leave, and I leave them to it, looking for my shoes.

I can still hear, though, as Rhett says, so gently, “Go to bed, brother.” Link replies with a _yeah, go home_ , that will break my heart if I think about it, so I won’t.

Sometimes I think I’m going insane, but tonight I’m gorgeous, and he’s going home with me.

Rhett loves the sky and the ocean, yeah, but wood is what burns.

.

> _And at least in this lifetime_  
>  _We’re sticking together  
> _ _Me and my husband  
> _ _We’re doing better_

**Author's Note:**

> please give me your thoughts; this one means a lot to me
> 
> this was originally posted on tumblr [@spockina](https://spockina.tumblr.com/post/183920995364/me-my-husband); you can find me there


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